


"I Think I Know Just The Man"

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [12]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When General Daniel Nelson becomes part of a group trying to find the perfect candidate to head the proposed operation at Stalag 13, he listens to the barrage of requirements for the job, and realizes he knows the perfect candidate.





	"I Think I Know Just The Man"

**Author's Note:**

> Warning - dark content

General Daniel L. Nelson had been listening to the discussion with more than a little skepticism. What the others were talking about, this wild idea of running a Travelers Aid Society, moreover one sprinkled with the occasional act of espionage and sabotage, out of a German Enlisted Prisoner of War camp, it just seemed too far out there to have even a chance of working. He sipped his now cold cup of coffee, letting his mind wander as they hovered over that table, talking about what the job would entail, where they'd decided it should be located, all that would be involved. General McCaulley had seemed very excited at the idea, Colonel Lewis showing some cautious enthusiasm. The two senior congressmen in the room, unnamed out of caution for their careers, but obviously well known to each of them and each other, were busy looking at all the angles.

His wandering mind heard bits and pieces, "have to be able to con Jerry, and that won't be easy, running an operation right under their noses.""Has to be a true patriot, someone willing to risk all for the cause." "Has to have charisma, be a natural born leader. Those men we're sending him in to lead, they're not officers, a motley crew at best; they'll need someone they trust, are willing to obey orders from, follow into hell if need be," "Not only that, he's got to be someone who UNDERSTANDS people, knows how to read them, can figure out which buttons to push to get them to do things his way. And you're right, McCaulley, it's not just Jerry he's going to have to be able to do that with; it's not going to be easy, those men, the ones he's going to have to use, they aren't officers, not even all Americans in that camp. He's gonna have to make HIMSELF the one who runs things in that camp, without question, without anyone getting wise to what's going on. That takes a special talent."

Colonel Lewis gave an amused laugh, "seems a shame none of your colleagues are in the military, Congressmen. Might have a better chance with what we're looking for there," getting a laugh from everyone in the room.

Much to his own surprise, General Nelson found himself nodding in agreement, and even more surprising, speaking up. "Gentlemen, I think I might know just the man for your little endeavor." And they all looked at him in some shock, him not having contributed much to the meeting, Colonel Lewis even wondering if the General had been listening to any of what was being said.

"His name is Robert E Hogan, Colonel, U.S.Air Force. Serving with the 504th bomber squadron. I've followed his career somewhat and I think he has the qualities you're looking for." He expounded at some length, listing the many talents and accomplishments of the officer in question. "In fact, I think he could sell ice to Eskimos. He's a natural leader, a remarkable judge of his fellow man (and woman!), their strengths and weaknesses, and able to use that knowledge to obtain the results he's looking for. Can think on his feet, quite versatile. He's rather a chameleon, able to blend in and become whatever is needed to obtain his objectives. Reminds me a bit of my father, Senator Nelson, if you want to know the truth."

That all was impressive, perhaps that last bit as much or more than the rest, the late Senator Daniel J. Nelson having been a champion politician in his day, highly respected in Washington and elsewhere. It had been well known that if you wanted something done, Senator Nelson was the one to get in your corner because he was the master of political manoeuvering and manipulation. No one had wanted to get on his bad side, but then few ever did; he'd been a genial, gracious man, smooth of speech and action, a favorite with just about everyone he met. 

The meeting over, Colonel Lewis put in charge of making the proposal to Colonel Hogan, the other men departing. "I say, Daniel, that was quite an impressive recommendation you gave Hogan." That got a quiet smile and shrug from Nelson, "Lee, I meant every word. I think he's just what you're looking for."

"Join me for lunch?"

"Thank you, no. I need to stop by and see Mother, then I promised Charlie I'd bring him a milk shake," and General McCaulley's face became a little uncomfortable.

"Ah, yes, I understand. Well, see you at the next session," and the two smiled, shook hands and parted company.

"And I really think he could do the job for them, Mother. I've never met someone more like father, you know, all his little ways." General Nelson was looking right at his mother as he spoke to her, slightly turned away so as not to include her companion right next to her.

"Saw him at a party at the Officer's Club, had that pretty little McPherson girl all in a twitter early on, and her no naive little fool either, then a group of the younger officers gathered around him like disciples at the feet of Jesus later on. There's been more than one interesting little scheme I've traced back to him, nothing I could prove without drawing attention, but he was at the base of it, certainly. The one thing he almost got tripped up in, he talked his way out of that as smoothly as anything I've ever seen, father to the very life."

"Yes, they're looking for someone like father in his heyday, and I think Hogan is just the man. What no one there addressed, what I'm not sure they understood was important enough to address, that's what motivates the man other than patriotism, and that's where he reminds me of father the most. It's not the money he might get from his schemes or planning, it's not the sex, though that all is certainly an enticement. No, like father, what he craves is the rush of the game, the knowledge that he's the one holding the aces, the power he can attain and use, the control he can exert over the other players. If anyone could be said to be addicted to all that, well, you have to admit father certainly was, and I feel Hogan is as well. Yes, I think he can do the job, will probably be eager for the experience even."

He reached out a hand to touch the cold marble of the tombstone in front of him, "see you next week, Mother." He turned and walked away, not sparing even a glance for the impressive monument immediately to the side, the one with the inscription he could recite by heart, "Senator Daniel J. Nelson - American Hero and Legend; died on the floor of the Senate while serving his country."

He glanced back at his mother's simple waist-high headstone. Her inscription was simpler, "Anna L. Nelson, beloved mother." It didn't mention anything about her death; well, it was hardly the thing to memorialize a death caused by a combination of drink and pills, brought on by, in Daniel Nelson's opinion, an excess of love and heartache and betrayal by her well-respected husband, him of the hundreds of schemes and manipulations, the more than hundreds of lovers through the years.

He sat the strawberry milkshake on the small bedside table, the nurse smiling at him kindly.

"He hasn't had one of those lately; he'll enjoy it later."

He looked at her, trying to remember, then he did. "Betty, isn't that right?"

Her smile was genuine, "yes, sir. I'm taking care of Charlie during the days; Maggie is on at nights; we switched to let her spend a little time with her new grandbaby. And he WILL enjoy that, you know. We have to be careful, just giving him tiny spoonsful at a time so he doesn't get choked, but I can tell he likes it. There's some think he couldn't, but we know better, Maggie and me; there's just that bit of relaxing around his mouth and eyes, you know?"

And he nods in appreciation at the genial motherly woman, and she leaves him alone with his only son.

"Hello, Charlie. I went to see your grandmother earlier, and she sends her love."

He never mentioned Charlie's mother; Louise was of one of the more influential Washington families, a socialite, and having a son in this condition was an embarrassment to her. She never visited, and in fact, Daniel rarely saw her; they'd kept to separate bedrooms, separate lives ever since he'd found his wife in his father's bed, his invalid mother just two doors down.

"And, you'll never guess who came up in the conversation today at one of those planning sessions over at Headquarters. Robbie, of all people."

He pulled the chair closer, telling about the possible job in store forCharlie's old friend, watching that telltale mouth tighten, relax at various times. When he'd finished, he reached out a trembling hand to gently push back the long loose sleeves of the shirt his Charlie wore instead of a hospital gown, gazing at those long deep cut marks, so many, side by side, marks they'd never even known about for so long.

It had taken Daniel a long time to figure out the marks, the unwavering repetition of that shape, the small elongated loop at the top, the one straight line below, the slightly slanted one next to it. Then one day, he caught it at just the right angle and it was obvious, so obvious he couldn't image he hadn't seen it before.

He'd read his son's journal, of course, in his frantic early attempts to figure out what had caused his strong, handsome, capable son, a newly commissioned pilot, to do such a thing, ever since he'd found Charlie, only half-clad, dangling from the end of that rope in his apartment, ever since the self-inflicted cuts, obviously collected over a period of time, had become shockingly apparent. And one name stood out, in entry after entry, as he read his son's accounts of trying to please one who couldn't be pleased, of being tested again and again, of trying unsuccessfully to live up to expectations and being scorned for failing once again.

In reading that journal, it was as if he saw himself, instead of young Charlie. But with Charlie, it was apparent from all the journal entries, it was Robert Hogan he'd been trying to please, 'Robbie', 'R', not Senator Daniel Nelson as it had been in the younger Daniel's case. He looked at those long marks once again, that narrow, elongated 'R' so evident if you knew what to look for, and nodded. "Yes, I think he's just what they're looking for, Charlie. I really think he is just the man who can do the job."

He sat there a long time, until Betty came back to take up his spot, and he looked once again at the beloved face of his only son, "it's his birthday next week, you know. He'll be twenty-nine, Betty." The plumb woman in the starched uniform patted his arm comfortingly, though not knowing just what to say in response.

"Do you think he'd like a small cake?" he asked.

She hesitated, then told him softly, "I don't think he could quite manage that, sir. Perhaps another milk shake? He does seem to enjoy those," and Daniel smiled in appreciation for her kindness.

"I think I can manage that," and left, closing the door softly behind him.


End file.
